


What Price Honor?

by DebraHicks



Category: The A-Team (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sexual Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:42:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26589814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebraHicks/pseuds/DebraHicks
Summary: What will one team member scarifice to save the others?  That is the question they have to face when the team is captured by a sadistic drug lord.Published in Adult Situations #5.  5/1992
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	What Price Honor?

When a plan went wrong, it went all to hell. Colonel Hannibal Smith wiped the blood off his mouth and picked himself up off the dirt floor. Emilio Sanchez allowed him to get to his feet before putting him down again with a double fist in his stomach. The leader of the A-Team caught a glimpse of the worried faces of his two companions as he hit the floor; he prayed silently that the guard's guns would be enough to keep BA under control.  
"Now, Colonel," the self-appointed dictator demanded, "you will tell me where the list is."

Hannibal struggled to his feet. "Sanchez if I were you that list would be the last thing I'd be worried about. Any second now the entire unit of US 'advisors' stationed south of here is going to come down on you like a sack.."

The breath hissed through his teeth as he was struck again, going to his knees.

"Very well," Sanchez said with an exaggerated sigh, "you force me to do it the hard way."

As Hannibal struggled to his feet Sanchez looked over the three of them. "We will start with el negro."

"Try it, sucker!" BA growled.

The guards stepped back, looked fearfully at their leader.

"Go! We'll see how brave he is when my whip has stripped the skin off his back." He drew a blued Magnum. "Co-operate, my Neanderthal friend, or I will shoot the little one where he stands."

"Little one?" Face sounded outraged. "I resent that."

With a quick look at Face, BA allowed himself to be lead toward the door. All Hannibal could do was watch in helpless frustration. They all knew the minute he gave the drug lord the information their lives would be worthless. BA sneered at the guards; he had been through worse. Across the room Hannibal could see his own desperation reflected in Face's blue eyes.

"Sanchez," Face spoke up, "we're all reasonable men. No one wants anyone to get hurt." The slender blonde glanced nervously at Hannibal. "Why don't we step outside and discuss this?"

Sanchez was intrigued and motioned the guards away from BA. He moved closer to Face, studied him for a moment. "A smart man. This is more like it."

"Lieutenant, I order you..." Hannibal began.

"You betray us, Faceman and I'll rip your lungs out," BA cut in.

"Hannibal, BA," Face smiled at them, spread his hands wide. "I'm sure we can reach a mutually beneficial arrangement." Face waved jauntily as he stepped out into the jungle night, followed by the guards.

"Face is on the jazz," BA smiled.

"I love to watch an artist at work," Hannibal added.

"How long do you think, Colonel?"

"Murdoch should have alerted Decker and his men by now."

"Never thought I'd be glad to see Colonel Decker," BA frowned.

Hannibal eased his abused body down onto a bare cot. "Fighting drug runners makes for strange bedfellows."

They settled in for an uneasy wait. The metal Quonset hut grew cold around them as time stretched out and darkness closed in. BA managed to doze off, snoring softly on the bunk opposite Hannibal. Hannibal envied him; it was the not knowing that could drive a commander crazy. His nerves tightened as he strained for the sound of jeeps that would signal their rescue or the sound of a shot that would mean disaster.

It was ninety minutes before the door opened and the guards shoved Face inside, kicking his legs out from under him so that he fell at Hannibal's feet. The guards laughed as they slammed the door.

BA was instantly awake. "Faceman?"

"I'm okay," he said flatly.

"What happened?" Hannibal demanded, reaching for his lieutenant. Face gasped as Hannibal pulled him up, doubling at the waist. Hannibal sat him down on the cot. "Report, Lieutenant." Hannibal ordered.

"I talked him into giving us a few hours."

"This should be an interesting report to hear, Colonel Smith." They all three turned, so concerned over Face that they hadn't heard the door open. A smiling Sanchez and his ever present guards stood just inside.

"That wasn't part of our deal," Face's voice wavered slightly.

Swaggering forward Sanchez reached toward a bruised cheek; Face flinched back. "You have a very talented whore, Colonel. He has brought you a few hours..."

The words bounced around Hannibal's mind. He glanced down at Face, saw the disarrayed clothes, the torn silk shirt.

"Jesus Christ!" Anger flared in the steel blue eyes. "There are limits, damnit! Even in war, there are limits!"

Sanchez took an involuntary step back, caught himself, anger laced his voice. "You accuse me of rape? I am not a barbarian, Colonel!" His voice dropped, became silky. "But a willing offer? Who could refuse?"

He turned, said over his back, "Oh, if you are hoping to wait me out, the one who escaped in the helicopter was shot down south of here." He smiled. "I'll give you until dawn. The blonde has worn me out."

As the door closed Hannibal and BA turned as one toward their silent companion sitting on the edge of the cot, staring at the dirt floor.

"Face?" BA said hesitantly.

"Report, Lieutenant," Hannibal repeated.

Stricken blue eyes met his, then broke away. "Report? How's this for a report? I got fucked through the floor and then it got nasty."

"You didn't fight him?" BA asked in an outraged voice.

"Fight him?" Face took a deep breath. "Why should I have fought him, it was my idea."

"Why?" Hannibal asked quietly.

"Because it was the only way I could think of to keep all of us alive and in one piece until morning," Face said softly.

"Damnit, Faceman, how the hell could you let that slime touch you?" BA said hotly.

The younger man sat for a long time, staring at a spot on the rusty metal wall. "Faceman. Maybe that's it, a fast tongue, a nice face..." his voice dropped, "a good body. The entire list of my assets. And when the con goes bad they're all I have to trade."

There was a stunned, hard silence.

"Little fag," BA said harshly. "Maybe you thought of it because you're a queer, just like the General."

"BA!" Hannibal cut him off.

"BA, you can't think I enjoyed..." Face stood up.

"Get away from me, cocksucker or I'll knock your head off."

Face backed away, confused and a little frightened by the shocking hate flaring in the big man. He looked helplessly at Hannibal. "Colonel... you don't think..."

"I think," Hannibal said as he eased Face back down to the cot, "you did what was necessary to keep us alive."

"Bullshit," BA said.

The colonel ignored him. "How bad is it?"

"What?" Face snapped his attention away from the black man.

"You said Sanchez got nasty. How nasty?"

"I'm okay," Face said, sounding and looking defeated. "A little bruised." He lay back slowly, threw an arm over his eyes. "Mostly just tired."

Hannibal watched him for a moment, took the single sheet off the other cot and spread it over him. He was already asleep and didn't stir. Hannibal joined BA.

"Would you mind telling me what the hell that was all about, Sergeant?"

"Colonel, what he did... it's not something a man would do."

"You've never been prejudiced against gays." Hannibal stated.

"This ain't about being gay!" BA said stubbornly. "This is about what a man will and will not do. It's about selling yourself like a piece of street trash!"

"He saved..."

"It don't matter why! Even thinking like that... it just ain't right. He asked for it to happen. When we get out of here he goes or I go."

Knowing that BA needed to cool off before he would see reason, Hannibal backed off. When a plan went wrong. What they needed now was a new plan to help get through the long night and out the next morning.

He moved to the other cot. "When the attack comes they'll come for us first."

"Attack?" BA said hopefully. "You think the crazy man is okay?"

"Murdoch's always okay."

With one hand he flipped the remaining cot over, motioning BA over to him. The big man studied the overturned bed.

"The metal legs, maybe." BA said after a minute. "Can't promise much."

"Get on it, Sergeant."

They stripped off the cover. BA snapped the metal frame apart and within a few minutes made straight pieces out of the solid metal legs.

The colonel smiled wickedly as he picked up the heavy staff and spun it gracefully in his hands. "Been a long time since I took out a man using a stick. Sometimes, BA, I think we've gotten too lazy, using guns every time." The A-Team leader looked up. "Any way of wiring the door from the light?"

BA smiled. Twenty minutes later a trail of gold chains lead off the doorknob, up the wall and toward the single, uncovered ceiling light. As BA reached up to unscrew the light Hannibal stopped him.

"Wait, BA, we may need it." He turned and looked at Face. "I hope he's just asleep."

BA only growled.

Hannibal returned to business. "There's limited access through that door so they'll have to come to us." He glanced down at the watch they had surprisingly left with him. "If I know Decker, he'll attack at dawn so we'd better get some sleep while we can."

Without a word over who got the remaining cot BA stretched out on what was left of the detached canvas cover. The colonel turned to check Face, knowing that BA was watching. The older man frowned as he touched the bruised cheek.

"He's cold, could have a problem with shock." Hannibal stripped off his jacket, adding it to the blanket covering Face up to his shoulders.

"I can't believe he let that slime..."

"He did it for us."

BA didn't answer. Hannibal sighed as he stood, turning off the light and forcing himself to lay down. It was still a long way to morning; a morning that, one way or the other could be the last for the A-Team.

*****

Hannibal heard Face moan. It took everything in him to stay still. He waited, praying for the clink of gold chains, for BA to move, to do something. Face moaned again, harsher, jerking with the nightmare, but still BA remained motionless. Hannibal began to wonder if this would be the break he wouldn't be able to heal.

The blonde cried out and Hannibal gave in moving and kneeling beside Face's cot. This time he could make out the low, muttered nightmare words. Vietnamese.

"Face," he said gently, touching the other's shoulder, "come on, Face."

"Oyi... please, di omiya...."

Hannibal took a sharp breath. Face was softly pleading with someone to hurry. A sharp, painful memory, one of many from a nightmare POW camp and a sweltering tent came snaking back. Hannibal had suspected then what Face had done but never mentioned it.

"Got to... tiachi dom a..."

Blinking away the mist in his eyes, Hannibal shook the square shoulders again. "Face!"

Blue eyes snapped open. "Hannibal!" He tried to sit up, was held down by two strong hands on his shoulders. His hand came up, tightened around Hannibal's wrist.

"Easy, Face," Hannibal was worried by the haze in the blue deeps and the cold of the slender hand clamped around his arm.

"Sorry, ... was dreaming," Face said softly.

"About 'Nam," Hannibal supplied. "About the first time you... let someone have you. It was Lo, wasn't it?"

Face rolled away, putting his back to Hannibal, was silent a long time. "I didn't think you knew."

"I suspected," Hannibal admitted.

"It was the only way I knew to get Lo to let Murdoch out of that tiger cage," Face's voice was strained, slurred slightly.

"I know. I'm only sorry I didn't say something, didn't let you know I was there in case you wanted to talk," Hannibal said with regret.

Rolling over Face, stared up at him, smiled. "I knew you would listen, if I ever wanted to talk." His eyes closed. "Lo didn't get into beating afterwards."

Face was pale in the sparse light. When Hannibal touched his arm he could feel the tremors running just under the tanned skin. He stood up, walked around and pulled the cot away from the metal wall. Face looked up, puzzled.

"Warmer this way." Hannibal raised the thin blanket, lay down next to the lieutenant. "Even better this way."

"Hannibal, I'll be fine ..."

"I find it real suspicious, Lieutenant that you won't let me get a look under that very expensive shirt. So, I'm going to go on the assumption that you're running a good risk of shock here. And if we're going to get out of this mess the last thing we need is you in shock. Now, relax and go to sleep. That's an order."

"Kill my reputation," Face muttered. "Hope no one sees us."

"You and me both, Face," Hannibal agreed heartily. "You and me both."

The body relaxed back against his chest and he slipped an arm around his friend. The night crawled on.

*****

It was the blackest part of the night; the time when babies came into the world and adults left it, like souls getting lost in the darkness. Hannibal lay awake, waiting for the telltale signs of dawn, waiting for rescue and to prove to himself that he had been right about Murdoch being okay. The alternative didn't bear thinking about. If help didn't come by dawn Sanchez would take great pleasure in torturing Face and BA until Hannibal returned the list.

The slender body in his arms moved. Face rolled over, buried himself against the hard warmth, then stiffening as he came partially awake. He tried to move away.

Hannibal refused to let him go. "Stay still, Face. We'll both get more sleep that way."

"Sorry, thought you were someone else," Face said, settling down again. The shared bed had obviously done its job. Face's words were stronger, no longer slurred.

"Ay, jilted already," Hannibal said dramatically. "I suppose this means you'll want the ring back?"

The ribs under his arm quivered with a slight laugh. Face remained silent for a long time, then in a low whisper asked, "Why does BA hate me, Hannibal?"

"He doesn't hate you," Hannibal assured him. "He just thinks he does. BA has an odd view on what is honorable."

"Better to go down fighting than to give up your virtue?" Face suggested.

"Something like that." Hannibal agreed. "It didn't help that you did it so he wouldn't get hurt. He thinks he's invincible."

Gunshots erupted in the compound, cutting him off. BA sprang up, snatching up the heavy metal staff. Using the canvas as protection he unscrewed the single light bulb, pressed home the last gold connection. At the same time Hannibal scrambled up, retrieving his weapon just as heavy boots sounded outside the door. Something hit the door and there was a cry of surprise and pain followed by guttural curses in Spanish. Hannibal gave BA the thumbs up sign. Behind them Face tried to get to his feet.

"How about a hand here, guys?"

Another body slammed the door, another cry then a burst of Spanish.

"They're cutting the electricity," Face warned as Hannibal slid an arm under him and yanked him to his feet.

"Don't matter," BA told them. "The chain just melted."

"Get ready." Hannibal moved to the side of the door, propped Face behind him, up against the wall. BA took the opposite side.

Two more assaults and the door sprang free; soldiers sprayed the small building with machine gun fire. But they couldn't fire around the tight corners. BA and Hannibal swung together, bringing the staffs around and through the doorway. They were rewarded with grunts of pain and the clatter of dropped weapons. Hannibal grabbed a gun that fell practically at his feet, smiled across at BA. The big man ducked across the open space, snatching up one of the other weapons as Hannibal fired cover.

"Shall we go have a word with Sanchez about his hospitality?" Hannibal suggested. "Face?"

"I want in on that conversation," Face said levelly.

But the determination in his voice could not keep his legs from buckling under him. Hannibal grabbed his arm, steadied him. Shifting his grip until he was practically carrying the other man, Hannibal nodded toward the door.

"Let's go, BA."

They blasted out into the night, stolen weapons spitting flames into the pre-dawn darkness. A grenade shattered the area, threw them to the hard ground. Hannibal scrambled up, turned to help Face and spotted a pistol next to a dead soldier. He picked it up with one hand, helped Face up with the other and handed him the weapon.

"You'll feel better with this!" He shouted over the gunfire and explosions.

With surprisingly steady hands Face checked the clip, nodded. They moved off in a semi-circle, Hannibal supporting Face, guarding each others backs, scanning for Murdoch or for their target. The sound of a helicopter echoed out of the lightening eastern sky. The copter came in above them, spun a graceful circle. Hannibal smiled, recognizing it as Murdoch's style. They continued across the compound. Most of the wooden buildings were ablaze, lighting parts of the camp, obscuring others. The smoke was thick and heavy; they were all coughing by the time they spotted their rescuers. Two jeeps, Commander Decker in one of them, swept into the far end of the compound as the chopper turned for another run.

"Head for the landing area," Hannibal ordered.

"Hannibal!" Face yelled, shoulder Hannibal aside, firing into the flames and darkness.

Even amidst the chaos two shots sounded clear as breaking glass. Hannibal looked to where Face's bullets had gone. Sanchez stood against the backdrop of a burning building, gun hanging limply in his hand. With savage satisfaction Hannibal watched him fall back into the mud.

Hannibal looked toward Face, saw the wan smile. With a surprised look, Face touched the growing red stain on his tattered shirt, pitched forward.

"Grab him!"

BA caught Face, hoisting him over one shoulder as bullets chewed up the mud around them.

"This way." Hannibal sprinted across the open space, kicked open the door to one of the untouched wooden storage buildings, swept his gun across the empty space. Tables stacked with cocoa leaves filled the room. Hannibal tipped one over to clear it off.

BA lay the smaller man down, his expression neutral. Hannibal handed him his gun, ripped open what was left of Face's shirt. Bright blood covered the right of his chest.

"Damn!" Hannibal's jaw tightened.

He scanned the room, stopping at a pile of flour bags folded in the corner. He ran over and grabbed one; came back next to his wounded friend. With a frown he stuffed it into the wound, pressing down. Face jerked under his hand.

"BA, Decker's bound to have a medic," he looked up, "find him."

BA stood, watching the blood slowly coloring the cloth.

Hannibal caught BA's gaze with a steel hard look. "Face saved your life last night with Sanchez. Sixteen years ago he did the same thing to keep Murdoch alive." His voice was firm. "Five minutes ago he took a bullet meant for me. I can't tell you which one took more courage. I can tell you that he is going to bleed to death if we just sit here."

"Hannibal?" A weak voice interrupted.

"I'm here, Face."

"Should have... just let him shoot me. Saved a lot... trouble."

"Face," Hannibal gripped his chin, smearing blood over the pale skin, "I've got to go get help. I'll be back. Don't move."

Face rambled on. "Can't blame BA. Dirty way to... get the job done ..."

"Shut up, Face. That's an order." He whirled around, grabbed his gun from BA, and disappeared into the morning light.

"Hannibal?" Face tried to move, cried out.

BA moved, years of companionship and his own compassion winning over his shock and guilt. He leaned over Face, put gentle hands awkwardly on his shoulders.

"It's okay, man."

Face focused with difficulty. "BA? Sorry..." To BA's embarrassment mist flooded the blue eyes. "I had to stop him... didn't want you or Hannibal... hurt..."

"Shush, ain't nothing to be sorry for except me being stupid. You did okay."

"Scared..." Face confessed. "Thinking... you were going to... leave.." He gasped, arched off the table.

BA held him down, let one hand take Face's cold one. "Sorry, I didn't mean any of that shit." Softly the big man said, "Was just... couldn't stand you letting that happen just for me."

The blue eyes cleared a little. "Do it again..."

"Not if I can do anything to stop it," BA said firmly.

Hannibal ran in with two medics in tow. "BA?"

"Hurry, man, hurry! He's hurtin'."

The medics shoved BA out of the way. Hannibal took him by the arm. "The area's been secured. It'll be better if we wait outside."

The morning was already growing muggy as the sun climbed the jungle sky. In the distance a few shots broke the still. BA sat heavily down on the steps of the small building, resting his elbows on his knees, leaning into his hands.

He sighed, said quietly, "Jesus, he was just a baby in 'Nam, in that camp."

"We're the only family he's every had. He was desperate, both times," Hannibal explained. "He traded the only thing he had."

A jeep roared up in front of them, Decker and Murdoch jumping out. "Hannibal," Murdoch stared breathlessly. "They said someone was hit." He glanced around. "Faceman?"

"Inside with the medics," Hannibal said.

Decker didn't say anything, only stepped pass the two men on the stairs and went inside.

"Colonel?" Murdoch questioned.

"He'll be okay," BA said, his tone leaving no doubt about Face's recovery.

Hannibal didn't answer, instead he stood, stretched casually. "I'm starved. Murdoch, why don't you and BA see if you can hit up one of these nice soldiers for some rations."

"I ain't leaving," BA said stubbornly.

Murdoch jostled his shoulder. "Ah, come on, BA, you just said Face'll be okay. Everyone'll feel better with a cold, soggy k-ration in their stomachs."

"Go on, BA," Hannibal urged.

The big man allowed Murdoch to pull him up. "Hannibal?"

"I'll come get you as soon as they'll let us in."

Over BA's arm, Murdoch cast Hannibal a questioning look. Trying to look confident Hannibal gave him a thumbs up. But when his teammates were gone he allowed himself the luxury of sagging down onto the steps. A slight sound snapped his attention to the shattered door. Decker stuck at cigar down toward him.

Hannibal managed a smile. "Why, thank you, Colonel. I've missed these the past two days."

"Looks like you've had it rough," Decker said gruffly.

Once Hannibal would have given a flippant remark or ignored the statement, now he only fumbled for a match and nodded his thanks when Decker gave him a light.

Decker cleared his throat. "My medics say Peck's been..."

"I know," Hannibal said quietly. "He got the one who did it."

It was Decker who nodded this time. "Not a lot of help, but it's something."

Before he could say anything else the medic appeared in the doorway. Hannibal was on his feet in a flash.

"Report," Decker ordered the medic.

"It's not as bad as it looked, sir. We got to him fast. He's patched, stabilized and ready for transport."

BA and Murdoch were suddenly beside their commander. "Can we see him?" BA demanded.

"Yea, for a minute."

BA and Murdoch smiled at each other, but when they went into the small wooden building they did it quietly. Hannibal looked after them, not going in yet.

"Smith."

Hannibal looked up at Decker.

"I had some men in 'Nam that were assaulted. I can arrange for Peck to see someone, if you think he'll want to."

Hannibal looked through the open door at his three men. BA was pushing Murdoch as they both tried to talk to Face, who had a half-grin on his face and was obviously feeling no pain.

He could deny Face's need, claim they would take care of him. Hannibal's thoughts went to never faraway jungle memories. He had denied Face's pain then, circumstances had allowed nothing else. They had been lucky - Face had come out of it whole and sane. But now there was no need for denial.

"Thank you, Colonel Decker. I think that would be a very good idea."


End file.
